


because it's you

by softeldritch



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: First Kiss, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Frottage, M/M, Winnipeg Jets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-29
Updated: 2019-03-29
Packaged: 2019-12-25 23:48:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18271577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softeldritch/pseuds/softeldritch
Summary: Patrik and Nikolaj do something dumb. Neither of them regret it.





	because it's you

**Author's Note:**

> these hockey boys have taken over my life and i need help
> 
> i kinda wrote this based off of three RNG prompts from [this list](http://blog-of-a-multitude-of-fandoms.tumblr.com/post/159975698721/prompt-list) (20 + 10 + 70) because i just wanted to write some fun easy fluff, but then it spiralled a bit out of control lmao

About five hours into having Patrik over, Nikolaj realizes something’s just a little off.

It’s not really his fault that he didn’t notice until now. They’ve been doing everything they normally do when they hang out. They argued over dinner, eventually ordering Skip because neither of them can cook. They played video games, Patrik kicking his ass almost every single time. They bickered over movie choices until they decided to flip for it, a gamble Nikolaj won as he proceeded to put on the goriest horror flick he could find.

But Patrik offered to pay for dinner and brushed off all Nikolaj’s attempts to pay him back, which he never does because Nikolaj’s the one with the fancy big-boy contract. And Patrik sat with their thighs pressed together while they played, nudging his knee against Nikolaj’s every time he won a round. And then when Nikolaj picked his movie, Patrik sighed and rolled his eyes and said, “the things I do for you,” all quiet and fond.

Okay. Maybe Nikolaj’s the idiot here for not noticing something’s different. But he noticed now, and suddenly everything’s clicking into place as being just an inch sideways.

Because—and this is the thing, this is what made him realize in the first place—Patty’s got a hand on his knee. Further up than his knee. Not quite on his thigh, but close enough his heart’s pounding. He keeps squeezing every time something awful happens on screen, because he’s not really big on horror, and his hand’s big and warm and heavy. Nikolaj can’t stop focusing on it now that he’s noticed it.

Is he supposed to say something? Move Patrik’s hand? It feels like a lie, somehow, to let Patrik be this touchy when it means so much more to Nikolaj. He’s probably supposed to move Patrik’s hand, or make some excuse about getting up to get more snacks, or shift over so he’s leaning up against the arm of the couch. But he doesn’t.

It’s just . . . nice. Distractingly nice.

He makes it through the rest of the movie barely paying attention, unable to think about anything but the hand curled around his leg. Good thing the movie wasn’t all that great anyway.

They check the time, and Patty makes some dumb face Nikolaj can’t decipher. “I should get going,” he says, patting Nikolaj’s knee twice before he lifts himself up off the couch. “Morning skate tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” Nikolaj says after a second to catch his breath, because it’s not mandatory but neither of them would ever miss it. He swallows, and stands up, following Patrik as he’s already heading to Nikolaj’s front door. “You gonna be able to sleep tonight?” He smirks while he says it, leans up against the wall because chirping Patrik is an easy rhythm to fall into. Even if his heart feels like it’s about to beat out of his chest.

Patrik grins at him, his blue eyes a little too bright in the dimness of Nikolaj’s apartment. “Are you gonna come tuck me in?”

Warmth floods into Nikolaj’s cheeks. “You wish,” he murmurs back, keeping his voice soft. Even though the credits of the movie are still playing over some loud screaming rock song, the atmosphere feels too quiet to speak any louder than a murmur. “I’ll text you a bedtime story if you’re afraid of the bogeyman.”

“Rather hear your voice,” Patrik teases, his mouth pulled into a crooked smirk. “You sound dumb when you’re tired.”

“You always sound dumb.” He says it to ignore the fact that his stomach has filled with butterflies and his heartbeat is almost in his throat.

Patrik’s shrugging on his coat, fiddling with the zipper on it, and Nikolaj’s gaze catches on his hands. He has nice hands. Long fingers, strong but still elegant. Nikolaj remembers the warmth of Patrik’s hand on his leg like a brand was left there, the skin still burning now as his breath catches in his throat.

For a long second he just stares as Patrik plays with the zipper. Then Patrik mutters something decisive in Finnish, and in two strides he’s so close Nikolaj has to tilt his head up to look a him.

Those big hands curl around Nikolaj’s face, fingers splayed over his jaw, thumbs pressed to his cheekbones. He stops breathing as Patrik stares down at him, eyes bright blue and expression intensely serious. “Goodnight,” Patrik murmurs, and then he’s leaning down and pressing a kiss to Nikolaj’s mouth.

The kiss is soft, and Patrik’s lips taste like licorice. At first Nikolaj just stands there, arms still crossed loosely over his chest, eyes wide open and staring unfocused at Patrik’s pale lashes. Then Patrik’s mouth stops moving, and his hands go slack on Nikolaj’s face, and—

And he’s about to pull away. Because Nikolaj’s not answering.

It’s a bit messy, the way he shoves up on his tiptoes and starts kissing back. Their teeth clack together and his nose is at the wrong angle and his hands are just a bit too desperate grabbing at Patrik’s broad shoulders.

But then Patrik angles Nikolaj’s head just the right way and everything just settles into place. The kiss starts slow; mouths moving together, exploring the feeling. Patrik strokes his thumbs over Nikolaj’s cheeks, soft and sweet, raising goosebumps on the back of Nikolaj’s neck. A buzzing warmth floods his veins, his pulse beating fast and hard against Patrik’s pinky fingers.

His head’s swimming. He can’t think straight. Everything’s light and foggy, like he’s wading through clouds, Patrik’s mouth moving with his so gentle it’s making his head spin. Gentle is nice. Gentle makes him tremble. But Nikolaj wants more, and he opens his mouth just as he winds his arms around Patrik’s waist and pulls him tight.

Patrik doesn’t miss the message. A hard shove has Nikolaj’s back against the wall, knocking the air out of him in a gasp even as Patrik cradles the back of his head in one big hand to keep it from hitting too hard. As Nikolaj’s catching his breath Patrik presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth, a smug chuckle rumbling at the back of his throat that sends liquid heat straight down Nikolaj’s spine.

“Asshole,” Nikolaj mutters, before he’s swallowing down Patrik’s laughter as their mouths meet again.

Everything happens slowly, gradually, moving like syrup—but it all feels so fast, too, like Patrik’s one step ahead and Nikolaj’s scrambling to catch up. Patrik moves a hand down to Nikolaj’s hip, shoves it up under his shirt and splays his fingers wide over Nikolaj’s bare skin, as Nikolaj wraps both arms around Patrik’s neck. Patrik’s very big and very warm, steady and sure of himself as he draws half-embarrassing little noises out of Nikolaj with his mouth and the press of his fingers at the nape of Nikolaj’s neck.

Then he shoves a thigh between Nikolaj’s legs and Nikolaj moans for real, breaking off to breathe hard against Patrik’s jaw as he tries to get himself under control. Shit, it’s been a while, and Patrik’s hitting all of his buttons.

“You okay?” Patrik asks, but there’s a teasing edge to his voice as he rubs circles into the skin of Nikolaj’s waist. “Need some help?”

“Shut up,” Nikolaj growls, butting his head against Patrik’s chin. He flexes his fingers over Patrik’s back, nails dragging over the thick wool of his coat. “Don’t start shit you aren’t ready to finish.”

“I _am_ Finnish.”

He sounds so damn proud of his stupid fucking joke that Nikolaj barks out a laugh. A laugh that breaks into another pitched-up moan when Patrik grinds his thigh up. “ _Fuck_ ,” Nikolaj bites out.

Patrik curls his hand around the side of Nikolaj’s neck, tilts his head up so they’re looking at each other properly. Nikolaj gets lost in his pretty blue eyes until he grins, a little arrogant and a little shy all at once. “I’m only leaving if you kick me out,” he says softly, his accent a bit thicker as he catches his breath. “Are you kicking me out?” The question is innocent, and his smirk is boyish, but there’s a glint in his eyes that makes Nikolaj shiver.

The smart thing here would be to send Patrik home. They’re NHL players—Patty's already a superstar, for fuck's sake—and the league's not exactly known for being accepting. If this got out, they'd become You Can Play mascots and the subject of every hockey talk show whether they wanted to or not. Nikolaj doesn't want old men telling him he should be keeping this part of himself private as though he hasn't been doing that all this time anyway. It's a bad idea from any practical perspective, and definitely _not_ a smart decision.

Nobody’s ever said Nikolaj was smart.

He unwinds his arms from around Patrik’s neck and drags his hands up around his shoulders until he’s got the lapels of his coat fisted in either hand. “You should take this off,” he says with a grin, cheeks flushed and hands trembling. It’s the feeling of clinching a playoff spot. Excitement and anticipation and enough anxiety to make his head spin. “It’s warm in here.”

Together they wrestle Patrik’s coat off, a feat made a lot more difficult with how many times Patrik insists on leaning in to press Nikolaj against the wall and kiss him stupid.

He breaks off right in the middle of something good, stepping back fast enough that Nikolaj almost stumbles with the instinct to follow him. Patrik smirks at him as he hangs up his coat, smoothing out the sleeves and settling it evenly over the hanger, taking his damn sweet time with it like he knows exactly how lightheaded Nikolaj feels leaning up against the wall.

“It’s fucking fine,” Nikolaj snaps, when Patrik takes an extra few seconds to do up all the decorative buttons on the damn coat.

Patrik twists his mouth in that crooked smirk. “Impatient?” He doesn’t give Nikolaj the chance to respond; Patrik’s pretty fast when he wants to be, and a second later he’s caging Nikolaj up against the wall again and slotting his thigh back between Nikolaj’s legs. “It’s okay,” he says, slow and soothing, “I know you like going fast, Fly.”

Nikolaj doesn’t get the chance to give him shit for using the nickname when they’re like this because suddenly they’re making out again. He curls his hands in the front of Patrik’s shirt and angles his head to make the kiss even filthier, trying not to whine when Patrik grinds his thigh up and short-circuits Nikolaj’s brain.

“Maybe,” Nikolaj manages, as Patrik kisses and sucks and bites a trail across his jaw, “maybe we should—maybe—“

Patrik bites down _hard_ on the sensitive spot just below Nikolaj’s jaw, and anything he’s about to say fizzles out as his brain fills with static. He hiccups out a moan, fingers clenching, hips bucking down on Patrik’s thick thigh. And Patrik keeps at it, nipping and sucking until the area starts to burn and Nikolaj’s sure he’s gonna have a hickey the size of a hockey puck tomorrow.

“We should move,” Nikolaj suggests. His voice shakes and Patrik snickers into his neck. “Shut up. We should go to the couch. Or the bed.”

Instead of moving, Patrik curls one of his big hands tight around Nikolaj’s wrist. “No,” he says against Nikolaj’s throat, biting a path down until he reaches the collar of Nikolaj’s shirt. “Here’s good.”

Patrik pins Nikolaj’s wrist to the wall, then, and a heady surge of arousal has Nikolaj’s legs trembling. “I dunno if I can, uh, keep standing.” Heat flames his cheeks at the admission, but saying it isn’t half as embarrassing as falling on his ass would be.

“That’s okay, I can hold you up.” Patrik presses a kiss to his throat, then moves in for another proper kiss. When he breaks they’re both panting. Patrik grins, tightening his grip on Nikolaj’s wrist. “You’re small.”

“Fuck you, I’m not that light.”

Patrik shrugs. “Light enough.”

Instead of arguing further Nikolaj just tugs Patrik back in with a hand fisted in the front of his shirt. Just because Patrik wants to take the lead here—and Nikolaj doesn’t mind that _at all_ —doesn’t mean Nikolaj’s gotta be totally passive.

They only kiss a few more seconds before Patrik’s pulling back. Nikolaj’s about to bitch at him for interrupting _again_ until he sees the nervous look in Patrik’s eyes.

“Is this dumb?” Patrik asks. He sounds a bit unsure. Like the twenty-year-old kid he is, under spotlight and scrutiny and not always sure what to do with it.

Now Nikolaj shrugs. “Yeah.” He catches Patrik’s eye, seeing bright blue and another question he hasn’t asked yet. There’s a moment here, a decision they both have to make, and even if Nikolaj’s made up his mind he needs to make sure Patrik’s on the same page. So he trails his fingers soothingly across Patrik’s collarbone and asks, “I’m good with that. Are you?”

Patrik takes a second to consider, and Nikolaj’s heart shoots up into his throat. He wants this more than he should.

Then Patrik nods, and smiles that soft, shy little smile again. “Yes,” he says, barely a murmur, “yes. Because it’s you.”

It’s unexpectedly sweet. Nikolaj flushes, smiling into the kiss that Patrik presses against his mouth.

“Me too,” he says into the kiss, even though he already told Patrik he’s good. Maybe that’s not what he means. Maybe Patrik will understand.

_Because it’s you._

Like before it starts gentle, but it really only takes Nikolaj’s hips twitching and Patrik’s fingers pressing into his wrist for the heat to kick back up again. Nikolaj’s getting whiplash from how quick the mood keeps changing.

“I really wanna fuck you,” Patrik groans against his jaw, stubble scraping along the sensitive skin of his throat. Nikolaj shivers, not sure if it’s from the feeling or the words. “I don’t have anything, though.”

Dammit. Nikolaj doesn’t hook up at home enough to keep a steady supply of condoms. Usually he counts on the guy he’s meeting up with to bring something, or he just doesn’t get laid at all. It wasn’t really a problem up until now.

“Me neither,” he admits, tilting his head to give Patrik more room. There’s gonna be another hickey even bigger than the first. “But I want—that.”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah.”

Patrik grinds his thigh up into Nikolaj’s crotch, drawing out a breathless moan. “Just like this, then.” He doesn’t seem all that disappointed about it. Especially not with his hips rolling like they are, a constant pressure sending a current of arousal through Nikolaj’s body.

It’s almost scary how easy it is to lose himself in it. He grinds against Patrik’s thick thigh and Patrik rolls his hips right back and it’s so unbelievably good Nikolaj doesn’t even bother holding back all the noises breaking in his throat. Everything’s just building and building until there’s nothing left but heat and arousal and _Patrik_.

Patrik’s still got a hand wrapped tight around Nikolaj’s wrist, still holding it up against the wall as his other hand explores under his shirt and drags warm, calloused fingers up his spine. He seems so big and broad, holding Nikolaj against the wall with just the strength of his body, keeping Nikolaj’s shaky legs from collapsing under him. And he’s doing this thing with his _mouth_ , teasing at Nikolaj’s throat with his teeth. It’s—it’s a lot, really, too much in the best way, the kind of overstimulation that makes his breath come in shallow gasps and his vision go fuzzy. He can barely get his hips to move anymore, just tiny little rolls, humping Patrik’s leg like a virgin teenager. Humiliation makes his face hot and his blood hotter and he whines, tugging at Patrik’s grip on his wrist just to feel the strength of it.

When he comes, he forgets to breathe for a second. Then Patrik’s hips stutter up against his and the groan in his ear makes him gasp, chest aching as his lungs fill up with air again.

Good thing Patty’s here to hold him up, or Nikolaj would’ve fallen on his ass by now. He clutches at Patrik’s arm with his one free hand, curling around his bicep, fingers twisting in the hem of his sleeve. For a long, long time, neither of them move.

Finally, Patrik pulls away a little. Just enough to stare down at his sweatpants, face twisting up in a grimace. “I’m gonna need to borrow your washing machine.”

Nikolaj swallows, still breathing hard. “Do you even know how to use one?”

“I can figure it out.”

Before Nikolaj actually learned to use it, he tried ‘figuring it out’. It didn’t work very well. “I’ll do it tomorrow,” he says with a sigh, head slumping back against the wall and eyes drifting shut. “I don’t want you touching it, you’ll break it.”

Patrik shrugs. Nikolaj can hear the grin in his voice when he speaks. “That’s cute. You’re gonna do my laundry for me like you’re my wife?”

If Nikolaj’s legs didn’t still feel like jelly, he’d knee Patrik in the groin. Instead he just glares at him through a pretty fierce blush and ignores the stupid smirk on Patrik’s dumb face. “In your case it’s more like I’m your _mom_ ,” he fires back. He’s about to say more—about how Patrik’s still just a dumbass kid, he’s not even out of his entry-level contract—but Patrik starts rubbing circles on his wrist with his thumb, and it’s distractingly nice enough that Nikolaj lets it go. He’s feeling too good to really bother complaining. Kind of floaty.

But his boxers are starting to feel gross. Apparently Patrik agrees, because he makes a face again and drops Nikolaj’s wrist, pushing away from the wall. “I need to shower,” he says, with a dumb little frown that’s really a lot cuter than it has any right to be.

“God, same.” Now that he’s got both hands free—as much as he liked Patty pinning him like that—Nikolaj reaches out and wraps his arms around Patrik’s neck. He pulls himself up against Patrik’s body, still a little unsteady on his feet, hanging off the guy’s neck. “Take me there, big guy.”

“I’m not carrying you,” Patrik says, deadpan, but his hands find Nikolaj’s waist anyway. “You can walk. It’s not like I fucked you.”

Nikolaj just tucks himself against Patrik’s side, warmth settling in his chest when Patrik wraps an arm around him. His legs are still shaky, and his heart’s still racing, but something about this moment just feels comfortable.

Until Patrik starts bitching, as he’s half-dragging Nikolaj down the hall to his bedroom. “Are you moving your feet, even? You’re useless.”

Rolling his eyes, Nikolaj digs his elbow into Patrik’s ribs in a way that could almost be accidental. “You’re the one who wanted to do it against a wall.” It _was_ extremely hot, but Nikolaj’s never gonna admit that to him. “I said we should move but you wanted to do things your way.”

The second they’re through the door to Nikolaj’s bedroom Patrik flattens him up against the wall again, slow and careful this time as he closes any space between their bodies. “But my way was good,” he says through a grin, tipping Nikolaj’s chin up and presses a chaste kiss to his scowl. “Otherwise you wouldn’t have been making all those noises.”

The thing about Patty is that he’s awful when he feels like he’s got something over you. The _problem_ is that Nikolaj’s kinda into his arrogance.

So he just kisses Patrik back, then gently shoves him in the direction of his ensuite.

They rinse off in the shower together, leaving their clothes in a pile on the floor that Nikolaj’ll deal with in the morning. He catches sight of the hickey developing on his neck, prods at it and watches his own eyelashes flutter, ignores the way Patrik grins all proud in the mirror behind him.

When they stumble tired and dripping back into Nikolaj’s bedroom Patrik collapses on the bed first, leaving the covers down at his waist as he stretches out on his back. He’s got that weird talent to make himself comfortable everywhere he goes. Right now he looks like he’s laying in his _own_ bed, like he belongs there, and—and that does something weird and heavy in Nikolaj’s chest.

They’re in a weird in-between right now, Nikolaj realizes, as he climbs into bed and arranges himself half on top of Patrik with his face tucked into Patrik’s neck. Neither of them have really said exactly what’s going on here, where it’s going _from_ here. Nikolaj knows what he wants this to be, but . . . not really what’s in Patrik’s head.

“I really kinda like you,” he says into Patrik’s throat, hand curling into a fist on his chest. “Like a lot.”

Patrik’s hand covers his. Big and warm and stilling the fidgeting of Nikolaj’s fingers. “I really kinda like you a lot, too.” His other hand settles on Nikolaj’s waist.

Nikolaj wonders if Patrik’s like him, saying it to cover up the three words he _wants_ to say. But that’s too soon, and too stupid even for Nikolaj. Instead he breathes in Patrik’s scent, fresh from the shower. “This isn’t a one time thing for me.”

Patrik’s sigh is barely audible, but Nikolaj can feel it. “Me too.”

It’s not everything he wants to say. Not even close. But they’ve gotten the point across, and Patrik’s thumb is sweeping up and down his waist in time with his rising and falling chest, lulling Nikolaj to sleep. So right now, it’s enough.

 

 

Somehow, even though Patrik had to drive home to change out of a borrowed shirt and sweats and into his own clothes, Nikolaj’s still the last to practice. The entire team chirps him about the ridiculous hickey high up on his throat—Andrew even pokes it, hard, laughing when Nikolaj swats his hand away. They ask who gave it to him, pressing for details, but Nikolaj’s got practice being quiet about his hookups and he’s not about to start talking now. So he hints at nothing and leaves them all hanging while Patrik smiles privately to himself.

“You never tell us anything,” Jacob whines.

Nikolaj smirks. “It’s my business, not yours.”

Blake corrals them pretty quickly after that, because he’s a good captain and one of the few who knows why Nikolaj doesn’t talk about this stuff, and everyone gets distracted with the latest story of one of his kids being cute. Good. The spotlight’s off Nikolaj for now, and he can share all the hidden smiles with Patty that he wants.

And if he sleeps in Patrik’s shirt that night instead of putting it in the wash with the rest of the laundry, that’s nobody’s business but his.

**Author's Note:**

> check me out on [tumblr](http://soft-eldritch.tumblr.com) for gifs and shitposts and lots of freaking out about my good good hockey boys.


End file.
